


Limpet

by veronamay



Series: Object of Affection [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Banter, Cuddling and Snuggling, Ficlet, First Time, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://flawedamythyst.livejournal.com">flawedamythyst</a>'s prompt: <i>Sherlock/John, John's reaction to Sherlock's constant touching.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Limpet

The first time they tumbled into bed together, John hadn't expected much. Sherlock's usual level of emotional detachment was almost inhuman, whether by choice or as a self-protective mechanism John didn't know. The end result was the same either way: Sherlock didn't often show affection beyond the odd fond smile, except in life-threatening situations. And even then, John was lucky to get a relieved glance and a hand on his shoulder.

So when, approximately fifteen minutes after their first kiss, Sherlock dragged John into his bedroom, stripped him in thirty seconds flat and proceeded to ride him into blissful insensibility, John was understandably a bit surprised.

They spent three days shut away from the world, and John spent a lot of that time constantly readjusting his view of Sherlock's personality. Contrary to what he _did_ expect, Sherlock seemed completely unselfconscious about being naked. Or John being naked--in fact, he was openly appreciative and occasionally demanding in that respect. There was a lot more lazing about in bed (granted, not a huge difference to lazing about on the sofa), and a lot less sniping and cutting commentary than usual (apparently even Sherlock wasn't immune to hormones).

The most surprising thing of all, though, was the touching. John was an unabashed cuddler himself, and he'd expected to have to coax Sherlock into a bit of post-coital nuzzling, maybe ambush him with a casual kiss or some stealth snuggling on the sofa now and then. He was already making plans as he came down from that first orgasm. Then, when he was recovered and made a move to get up, Sherlock somehow coiled himself around John's entire body and tucked his face firmly into John's neck.

"Where are you going?" came the muffled demand.

"Um." John glanced down at the messy dark curls under his chin. "Glass of water? I'm thirsty."

"Oh." Sherlock unwound himself and shifted away a bare two inches. "All right. If you must."

"Want anything?"

"No." John found himself drawn back in for a kiss; Sherlock took his time about it, and John was a bit lightheaded after. "Go on, then. Hurry up."

It was with a certain sense of bemusement that John wandered into the kitchen, got his glass of water, and wandered back into Sherlock's room. The man himself was sprawled across the bed and clearly on the verge of sleep, but the moment John sat down on the bed he sort of _flowed_ over to wrap John in approximately sixteen different limbs and bring him back under the nest of blankets. It wasn't unlike a dog dragging a treat back to its lair, although admittedly there was less slobber involved. John couldn't say he minded. In fact, he was suppressing the worst kind of glowing satisfaction as Sherlock arranged them into a position that suited him and pushed his face into John's neck.

"Shut up," Sherlock muttered.

"I didn't say a word."

"You didn't have to. You're the personification of the boringly average smug post-coital male." His tone was derisive, but Sherlock's arms and legs tightened around John as he spoke so John didn't take it amiss. "Is it really so surprising that I'm ..."

"Clingy? A human octopus? A strangler fig with legs?" John chuckled, but left off when he felt Sherlock begin to pull away from him. "No, wait, hold on. I didn't mean it like that. I'm not laughing at you." He tightened his own hold on Sherlock's waist and twisted awkwardly to press a kiss to the thin skin at his temple. "I'm just ... I hadn't considered you'd, well. That you'd want to."

"Don't be stupid, John." Sherlock raised his head to give him a brief withering glance. "I've barely been able to keep my hands off you for months. I'm hardly going to restrain myself now that I don't have to."

John felt a hot flush work its way up his neck--how he could possibly be shocked by anything at this point, he had no idea, but hearing Sherlock talk like that about him was ruining his composure.

"Um. Well. All right then," he said, clearing his throat. "Good."

"Fine."

"Okay."

"Glad you agree."

"Does this mean you're going to hold my hand at crime scenes?"

"Shut _up_ ," Sherlock growled, and bit him.

John shut his mouth and tucked his free arm behind his head, grinning like a madman at the ceiling.

END


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